Unraveled Thread

"Unraveled Thread"
I can only hope
that somewhere inside
     the fabric of time
exists,
some kind of line of cotton thread,

An entangled twine
this line of thread
that I wish I was able
     to pull upon and unravel instead.

Considering my life
are just patches of memories stitched together,
woven tightly
with strands of natural fibers,
I realize
These delicate threads weaving
     reminiscent pieces
of time
into tapestries of existence
are only pieces
Sewn together
     with elegant
          needlework
that hold tightly
     each soundless moment of recollection,
To finally form
     my eclectic cloth
          of thoughts and experiences
that I wish were not so,

I can only hope
there exists
among the fabric of reality
within all
     its splendid designs of interwoven threads,
a single line of silk or cotton string
I can reach out and pull upon
to unravel
     this horrible dream of mine.

However,
untangling a tapestry of woven moments
is not like pulling a line of cotton thread
but perhaps more like erasing thin lines from ink and pen.

I now realize,
I am only ever able
To reflect
that which my mind can paint.
-Armando Torres

Superstition of Coincidence v2

"Superstition of Coincidence"
I know now
The superstition of coincidence
can give meaning
where there was none before,
Forcing purpose to fade
     and meaning manifesting
          to takes its place,
Leaving only
     a moment
     forever yours,

So I wonder then,
the meaning to this sadness,

I sit now with this autumn chill
upon my icy cheeks
hoping to find its meaning
      but know my suffering goes unwitnessed,

I find these tears of mine
     mean nothing.

These leaves dance and sway
     for me
          creating
               nothing more
                    but my sympathetic connection
               to this dreary moment.

Only the superstition of coincidence
has pushed relevance
into this unseen moment.
Where I exist
unseen with only my own meaning.

I realize now,
Look long enough
For a reason
     and Superstition will
Find you.
-Armando Torres

Was Once but Now Just Was

"Was Once but Now Just Was"

There in the tattered weathered halls, 

     in between those fallen desolate walls, 

right there beside the peeling paint 

     lies somewhere inside 

this dreary place  

what it was once 

but now only holds

     what was.

Leaving only just enough 

     to remember life lived through,

Forgotten corners,

empty halls,

Just enough 

     to feel the desolate pull 

          of what it once was,

Fallen floors and weeping walls,

Empty echoes of memory 

     on the tips of whispers

remembering 

that it was once

but now just was.

-Armando Torres

Droplets

"Droplets"
In the distance
the sky shows a change
from blue to gray,

the air begins to feel crisp and cool
shifting my thoughts and mood,

from far off a soft sound of tapping begins
     dropping its rhythmic touches
          upon the ground,

A fresh scent
of grass and dirt
elegantly moves through the air
     like slow moving waves
with nothing before them
               to hold them in place,

A blanket of scent
     floating through an ocean of air
          over
               the droplets
                    of rain,

A tap
     tapping on metal
          in the distance,
Droplets
     dripping
          into puddles,

A few at first,
but now
     the drips
have transformed
          into a glorious
melody
     of scattered
gentle
          pattering,

A calm gray hangs overhead
     as every which way
          I look
holds delicate vertical lines
     Of blurry beautiful
          Droplets
     falling from the sky,

I finally turn my head upward
closing my eyes
     to let fall
          the soft drops
          of rain
     upon my face.
Tasting their elegance
on my lips.
-Armando Torres

these Demons

"these Demons"
From where do these demons speak?
I can hear their whispers
     near me,
Tainting the day,
Pouring pain
     into my moments of peace,

There's a crippling fear
that these demons are not real,
That in fact
I am perhaps
     Just this awful,
That I am
     Responsible for all these mistakes,
For All the things terrible in my life,

or Perhaps,

This evil does exist,
     And it is not me,
It's the whispers that make me weak,
     It's this silence that is a gateway
          For this evil to find a way
               In to my heart,

These regrets are not my fault,
It's these demons,
I can hear them near me,
All the time,
Pouring pain
     like thick oil into my mouth
Changing my day into a nightmare of new regrets,

These demons begin speaking and I begin listening.
It's not my fault.
-Armando Torre

Racism of Antiquity

"Racism of Antiquity"
There's a part of me
that is scared all of this,
   
That one day
I will be sitting silently
     wondering what more we could be,
Left thinking back
from a silent room
watching painful echoes
     move about my memories,

Seeing a past written...
that I don't remember...
by someone else...

     Looking at spots in history
          that did not
               go the way
                    they said it went,

Remembering when
     they used to say we all mattered,

Scared...

Left
Asking myself...
     was it all real?
     Did any of it ever happen?
     Or did I just imagine it?

The thought of
Not Having
a normal life
     without racial bias.
     Makes the world
     feel so heavy,

I don't want to experience
my life under the crushing
pretense
of racial intolerance,

However,

I don't want to sit inside memory,
Remembering
Racism of Antiquity
becoming
just a normal point of view,
   
The so called Myth,
     I had to experience
     from a life I once had
     to a life I still have,

     to a life I will die with.

Leaves me dying already
and only alive enough
to feel your discrimination
to fight back
for another generation

so that your children
will be
friends with my children
and they will become the change
we could not be.

I want to experience today now,
To taste your hate on my tongue
     and hold it near,
To feel
and hear
and know in my heart
     that you are not safe
until you change.
-Armando Torres